Jeremy was actually at Home Farm when he finally found him, so it was in a cowshed that he had to tactfully ask Jeremy about the whereabouts of his wife.
‘Sorry to be troubling you, Mr Mayer, but I’ve had two people asking me,’ – that was an exaggeration, but it made his enquiry sound more urgent – ‘about your dear wife, Venetia. They are very concerned about her disappearance, do you have cause for concern at all?’
Jeremy dropped his pen in the cow muck but ignored it. ‘Seeing as I had a letter from her yesterday, no I am not, sergeant.’
‘I see. Would it be possible for me to see it?’
‘No you may not. I don’t allow my p-private correspondence to be bandied about around the p-public at large.’
‘It would put my mind at rest.’
‘There is no reason to put your mind at rest. She’s s-safe and well and if I was concerned about her, I would be asking you for help, wouldn’t I? She is caring for her mother, who has been very poorly just recently.’
‘I see. I didn’t mean to give offence, I’m just concerned, you understand.’
‘Understandably, officer. Now, may I get on with the b-business that b-brought me here?’
Mac replaced his hat, turned on his heel, then paused and turned back saying, ‘Don’t forget your pen.’ He pointed to the very messy pen still lying at Jeremy’s feet, and left the cowshed.
He was covering up, was Mr Jeremy Mayer. The stammer and the beads of sweat on his top lip were all signs of panic. To say nothing of his trembling hands. Amazing control though, to speak so commandingly. Perhaps it was all to do with his upset about Venetia leaving him though? Yes, of course, that would be it. The reverend had got it completely wrong.
But Sergeant MacArthur’s day of being at the hub of the best gossip in Turnham Malpas in years was not yet finished. At eight-fifteen that evening he received the message that a yellow-and-black Mini had been found abandoned, minus its registration plates, on a derelict industrial estate in Culworth that had become an illegal graveyard for unwanted cars. It belonged to Venetia.
Chapter 20
Two people who were not the slightest bit interested in the Harry/Venetia/Jeremy drama were Tamsin and Paddy; they were far too busy enjoying their new relationship and organising their wedding. The day the news broke about Venetia’s car, Paddy got a reply from his mother. His stomach churned as he opened it.
Dear Paddy,
Well, I never! My Paddy getting married! Now all the children have left home I am free to come! She looks a lovely girl, you are a very lucky man. I thought I’d come and stay a few days. Could you put me up?
I shall hire a car from the airport and drive straight to Turnham Malpas. I will let you know definite times in a few days when I’ve booked my flight.
So looking forward to seeing you! I shall bring photos of everyone, including all your nieces and nephews.
Love to Tamsin and to you.
Your Ma. X X X X X
Paddy was reading the letter sitting in his favourite lunchtime position; in his wheelbarrow, leaning his back against the wall of the peach house where, ever since he’d first come to work at the big house, he always ate his lunch, summer and winter, unless it was raining.
The letter fell from his hand onto his sandwich box and lay there while he sat there stunned. How on earth had that downtrodden, regularly beaten up, useless mother of his become this apparently brisk, modern, up-to-date one with a mind of her own? He checked the handwriting, suspecting that his letter must have got into the wrong hands. How could this be her? He hadn’t known she was literate even, because he’d never seen her read a book or newspaper in all the sixteen years he’d lived at home. Hire a car! Drive to Turnham Malpas! His memory of her was of someone eternally pregnant, always struggling to get through the day, burdened with a houseful of children. He’d never expected a reply, still less one that sounded so positive. Somehow, as he sat there eating his slice of ground rice tart that Greta had packed for him, Paddy slowly began to realise that maybe he wouldn’t need to feel ashamed of her any longer, as he had done the last twenty-four years.
It felt ridiculous, but suddenly he felt better about himself, felt able to hold his head higher. Apparently he could be proud of her which, in a way, made him feel less of a waste of space. Perhaps he wasn’t such a wastrel, after all. Something within him had made him decide to take up Mr Fitch’s offer of paying for his course at the Horticultural College, had he got that from his mother?
He drank the last of his coffee, screwed the lid back on the Thermos, then packed it carefully away. He decided to spend the next few minutes talking to Tamsin.
She was utterly delighted that his mother was coming. ‘Oh, Paddy, that will make the day so very special for us. I’m so pleased. Aren’t you glad you wrote?’
‘Yes, thanks to you and Greta. More so to you for persisting. She’s changed so much, you’ve no idea.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Bridget Clodagh Mary Cleary.’
‘She sounds lovely.’
‘Wait till we see her. It all sounds too good to be true.’
‘Nonsense. You’ve read me her letter and she sounds great. Be glad, Paddy, your mother is still alive. I would be if she were mine.’
‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’
‘Got to go, I’ve a pupil waiting for me. Love and kisses. Only four more weeks to go!’
‘Exactly.’ Paddy switched off his mobile and carefully put it back in his trouser pocket. Then he leaped out of the wheelbarrow and went back to work with a song in his heart. No mention of his dad, then. That was odd. She didn’t say ‘we’, but ‘I’, so that must mean he wouldn’t be coming. Because he couldn’t or wouldn’t? Paddy didn’t care. If he was dead, so what? If he was alive and wouldn’t come, so what? He shuddered to think of Tamsin having to shake hands with the man. He couldn’t bear the idea of it, not him with his cruelty, degradation and lies. Not likely. He felt relieved. Tonight he’d ask Greta if his mother could use the small bedroom, or maybe he ought to use the small one and let her have his bigger one. He’d talk to Greta about it.
Then he suffered one of the deeply disturbing moments when he doubted that he should be marrying Tamsin at all. He’d have to cancel the wedding. He would tonight, cancel it, tell her he couldn’t go ahead with it. Not Paddy Cleary, he didn’t deserve her. She wasn’t in his league and that was important in a marriage. He’d let his mother come, Greta wouldn’t mind, but not get married. In fact, he’d go right now and wait for Tamsin to come home to tell her outright, no beating about the bush, straight from the shoulder. That’s what he’d do. He dropped the drum of plant food he was about to open and left without a word to anyone. If he tried to speak to someone he’d break down. Best if he just left without a word.
Paddy sat on the seat by the village pond, his sweater sleeve pulled back so he could see the time without hindrance. He nodded at a little girl and her mother who had come to feed the geese and he tolerated them honking and squabbling around his feet as they fought for a share. He heard a helicopter trailing steadily through the sky, round and round, lower and lower, and watched it surge away suddenly as though tired of Turnham Malpas, just like he felt. He’d leave and go somewhere else, make a fresh start, and forget her. It was the only way. He’d overpersuaded her and he shouldn’t have done.
Then the familiar sound of her VW Beetle invaded his subconscious and Paddy got to his feet to make his way towards her as she searched for her keys. His legs felt like jelly, but he knew that he wasn’t the right person for her, she deserved someone so much more handsome, charismatic, someone higher up the social strata than him. His heart bled as he called out to her, ‘Tamsin!’
Tamsin heard him and turned to watch him crossing the green, promptly falling in love with him all over again. Since her parents died, there hadn’t been anyone who loved her as he did, despite all her faults, and they were many. She wasn’t going to turn her back on him now, not when lifelong happiness was within her g
rasp. But something in his gait alarmed her. She pushed open her door and went inside to wait for him to arrive, anxiously puzzling about what could be wrong.
Paddy came stiffly into the sitting room.
Tamsin watched him from the kitchen doorway.
Paddy felt shrivelled inside.
Tamsin prepared herself for something shocking that she guessed she wouldn’t want to hear.
‘It’s like this, Tamsin.’ As he said her name his guts knotted.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s like this. I’m not good enough for you. I can’t possibly give you the kind of lifestyle you are accustomed to. We’ll have to cancel. I shall love you till …’
‘Yes?’
‘… the end of time. But I can’t let you tie yourself to me. I’m sorry. I shall drag you down, I know it. I should never have asked you to marry me. Never. I’m not reliable.’
Tamsin knew Paddy was close to collapse. His face was ashen, those blue Irish eyes with their dark lashes were almost black with pain, and he was shaking from head to foot.
‘Sit down. I’ll get you a brandy.’
Paddy took the glass from her and downed it in one gulp. His mouth seized up, his tongue seemed to have grown too big for it and he couldn’t speak. He groaned. It was all he was capable of.
Tamsin stood beside him, not knowing how to respond.
The silence between them filled the house.
‘It’s no good. I can’t marry you, I’m just not good enough for you. I’m really not. I’m so sorry. So sorry.’ Paddy shuddered. What the blazes had he done? He’d given up all chance of happiness with the woman he loved, but it was for the best. He’d done the right thing by her. He’d never find another woman like Tamsin. Oh God. He struggled to leave the depths of the sofa but the message from his head didn’t reach his legs.
A voice said in commanding tones, ‘Stay where you are!’ Paddy couldn’t think who’d spoken.
‘You dare move one inch from that sofa. Just you try. I mean it.’
There it was again. That voice.
‘If I have to chain you to it for the next four weeks, I shall. You’re not getting out of this, Paddy Cleary. Believe me, I’ll die first. We are destined for one another. You may not believe it now, but you will. I have never in all my life met anyone I would want to have sleeping with me for the next forty or more years. Understand? I’ve haven’t reached thirty-five without opportunities, but believe me or believe me not, you are the only man I have ever met to whom I would give that opportunity. Right? Waking up and seeing your face on the pillow next to me every day for the rest of my life is all I want, even when we are both really old. Not good enough for me! That’s … that’s … that’s balderdash.’
‘Balderdash?’
‘Yes. Rubbish, nonsense, silly, foolish, total madness. To me …’ Tamsin tapped her chest sharply, ‘to me, you are the man I want. Right? And I’m not going to let you go. So. What do you have to say to that?’
Tamsin stood in front of him, arms akimbo, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, waiting. Her mouth began to tremble with laughter but she grimly held her stance. For a moment she thought Paddy was going to begin smiling too, but he didn’t, and then he couldn’t hold it back and before they knew it, they were both laughing their heads off.
Momentarily, Paddy controlled his laughter and said, ‘I meant it. I really did.’
‘I know you did. You frightened the life out of me. Don’t you dare do that again.’
‘I daren’t, not after that telling off. Help! What have I done? I’m marrying a harridan.’
‘A lovely one though.’ Tamsin flung herself down onto the sofa beside him and clutched him to her. ‘Oh, Paddy! I love you so much.’
‘And I love you, too.’
‘Isn’t it lovely? The two of us finding each other, don’t you think?’
‘After the life I’ve led, it’s like reaching paradise, being with you.’
‘I’m no angel, you know. I have a temper the like of which …’
‘After that exhibition I know you have.’
Tamsin sat upright. ‘And I hate shellfish, I never eat ’em.’
‘Neither do I, so that’s all right.’
‘And I’ve never learned to ride a bike.’
‘That’s OK. I don’t like bikes, far too energetic.’
‘And another thing, I can’t go on rides like the Big Dipper, they make me terribly sick.’
‘We’ll avoid those then.’
‘And there’s something else you ought to know …’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t like lovemaking first thing in the morning.’
‘Better make a note of that.’ He took out his diary and wrote in it. ‘Doesn’t want sex before breakfast. Anything else while I’ve got my diary out?’ He sat there, pen poised, looking at her.
‘I shall get my hair cut off in time for the wedding.’
‘What?’
‘I’m getting my hair cut off, to just about two inches long all over. I’ve always worn it long so a change would be good. What do you think?’
Paddy protested. ‘I love your hair just as it is.’
‘Oh! I see, all right then. That doesn’t mean to say I shall keep it long for ever. I have an independent spirit and you’d better accept that before we embark on this marriage business.’
‘Right.’ Paddy made another note in his diary. ‘Anything else?’
‘I have a very loving heart and I love you and only you. And always will.’
They had a long kiss then, to seal some kind of deeper understanding between them.
‘I’d better go.’
‘Yes you had, or the promise we made to each other could be broken and I don’t want that.’
‘Neither do I.’
As he walked down Shepherd’s Hill, Paddy’s heart felt as if it was going to leap out of his chest with joy. When he got back to Greta’s he gave her his mother’s letter to read.
She was amazed. ‘I thought you said …’
‘Yes, I know. It’s come as a shock. I never thought she’d find the money, never mind the time, to come. And learning to drive, I can’t believe it. She doesn’t say what’s changed her so much, does she?’
‘No. I wonder, would she like to stay with us, do you think?’
‘I was going to ask if you would mind.’
‘I’d love her to stay. Would she mind?’
‘I think she’d be delighted.’
‘Good. That’s settled then. You know, Paddy, marrying Tamsin is doing you good. You look ten years younger.’ She reached towards him and kissed his cheek. ‘We’re so looking forward to the wedding, but I shall miss you, you know, living with us. It’s been great having you here. I miss my boys. Still, there it is.’
‘Won’t they ever come back?’
Greta shook her head. ‘In Canada they are. They daren’t come back ’cos of what happened. They were two very naughty boys. Well, Kenny was and our Terry did whatever he was told. Barry’s lovely, as you know, but I miss the other two.’
‘Have you never thought about going to see them?’
‘Never had the money and I don’t know if we’d be welcome anyway. But there we are, I’ve got you instead and that’s enough for me. Reception organised?’
‘Oh yes. Georgie’s being wonderful. We shall have the whole of the Royal Oak for ourselves that day until 6 p.m. It’ll be classed as a private function, you see.’
‘I don’t know if Tamsin’s told you, but she’s asked Vince to give her away. She said she thought it would please you.’
‘Vince? I didn’t know that. She’s hasn’t said.’
‘Don’t let on. She hasn’t got a dad of her own you see, has she? Vince is that proud.’
‘Ah! Right. Couldn’t have happened to a better man. I’m so pleased. All we have to hope for is wonderful weather.’
‘They say the sun shines on the righteous.’
‘Best behave myself then.’
Paddy had to smile, he’d come so close to doing that very thing. He nodded in reply to Greta’s advice. Thank God for Tamsin and her down-to-earth approach to life. He could sense that the best part of his life was still to come. And he had to admit that he was looking forward to his mother coming, if only to find out about the change in her fortunes. Perhaps it meant that either his mother had given his dad the elbow, or he was no longer on the scene, namely that he was dead. Hallelujah to that!
Chapter 21
Sykes, bereft of his best friend Harry, had been taken in again by Grandmama Charter-Plackett. She didn’t want him, not any more, but what was one to do with him? He was ownerless all over again. He really wasn’t having much luck just lately and that kindly corner of her heart she kept for her family and her dearest friends, though there weren’t many of those left nowadays, decided that, despite her better judgement, she’d better have him back with her.
Sykes accepted his change of circumstances with a good heart and kept to his routine as closely as she allowed. She didn’t really approve of dogs wandering about all on their own, but he knew the village and its environs so well that he wasn’t likely to go missing and because he was so well behaved she allowed him to roam within reason. His favourite place was the church, followed by trotting across Home Park round the lake and up the stairs to where Harry used to work. When he found Harry wasn’t there any longer, Sykes dropped the office from his route, and instead popped home via Sykes Wood. This was a much longer way round but there were plenty of rabbit warrens to stick his nose down and it made for a much more interesting way home than covering the same ground across Home Park.
Without fail, he always managed to come home just as clean as when he left it, mainly because he hated the rain so tended to stay home on muddy days. Then, two days in succession, Grandmama had to wash him all the way up his short legs and along his chest before she would allow him in the house. ‘Digging for rabbits, I expect, you scoundrel. You should bring one home and we could have it for dinner. I’m good at skinning rabbits. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? Off you go.’
A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15) Page 19
